


You Underestimated Me

by combeferre_writer01



Series: The Witcher Stories [8]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Geralt's an interesting teacher, Jaskier can use a sword better than Geralt thought, M/M, Self-Defense Classes, other things are kind of hinted at, sorta gay, they kiss twice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:00:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22654396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/combeferre_writer01/pseuds/combeferre_writer01
Summary: I got permission from @thebardjaskier on Tumblr to write my own answer to a request they got: "Consider the following, Geralt teaching Jaskier how to fight with a sword and then the practice fighting and somehow jaskier knock him down and tilts his chin up with the sword making some snarking comment about getting slow"
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: The Witcher Stories [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1599160
Comments: 26
Kudos: 455





	You Underestimated Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hellstrider](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellstrider/gifts).



Geralt had been wanting to teach Jaskier how to defend himself with a blade for a while. There’d come across a day when tossing sand or dirt in a bandit’s eyes wouldn’t be enough. 

The witcher had two swords. A steel one for fighting humans, and a silver one fighting monsters. The silver one, even when sharpened, was a large letter opener against humans. He let Jaskier use the silver one. It was lighter and lessened the chances of the bard hurting himself. 

“I don’t really think I need to learn sword fighting, Geralt. People don’t usually try to rob bards because they know we haven’t got money.” 

“Jask-”

“I mean, the most expensive thing I own is my lute.”

Geralt sighed. This was going to take longer than he thought. “Traveling with me is dangerous. You know that. Cowering behind a tree with a clump of dirt in your hands isn’t going to protect forever.” 

“You’re being-”

“Jaskier. Pick up the sword.” The command was almost a growl and Jaskier knew he wasn’t getting out of this.

The sword, in the bard’s hands, was lighter than he expected. The bard, however, let out a startled yelp and just barely managed to block the swing Geralt made at him.

“Not bad,” Geralt nodded. “Focus on where you want the sword to go, not the sword itself. If you can, get a look at who you’re fighting before the fight begins so you can picture what their body’s layout is in your mind.” 

Get a look at your opponent? Jaskier had gotten plenty of looks at Geralt. 

“Once you know the size of who you’re fighting, don’t take your eyes off of theirs.”

“Their eyes?” Jaskier narrowly avoided another of Geralt’s swings.

“You can see their intent. Rarely do they get a look at you. They try to aim their blows by glancing. If you see their glance,” he demonstrated by looking and Jaskier’s middle before thrusting, “you can block easier.”

In fact, Jaskier shouldn’t have known a block like that. The bard was usually too awkward for a movement like that. Something was off. 

Not taking his eyes off of Geralt’s Jaskier thrust the silver sword, keeping up with Geralt for speed and never letting go of the offence now that he’d taken it. The bard swapped sword hands, stuck his foot out, and tripped Geralt, knocking the Witcher to the forest floor. Geralt caught himself on his hands and knees, dropping his sword on his way down.

Teasing smirk in place, Jaskier slowly tipped Geralt’s head up so the Witcher was looking up at him. Geralt felt something stirring in his gut.

“You aren’t growing slow already, are you?” Jaskier’s smirk widened into a smile when Geralt’s breath hitched in his throat.

Geralt leaned back and his arm darted out, wrapping his hand around Jaskier’s ankle and pulling him down. While the bard was winded from the fall, Geralt pounced on him, kneeling on Jaskier’s knees and pinning his arms above his head by the wrists. 

Jaskier wiggled under Geralt’s weight, concentration painted on his face. He was no match for Geralt’s strength. 

“How did you do that?” Geralt demanded. 

Jaskier tried to free himself to no avail rather than answering him. 

Geralt pressed hard on his wrists. “How?”

“We had self-defence classes at the bard’s college. I guess I just need a refresher.” 

Geralt still didn’t let up his hold on Jaskier. “You never mentioned it?”

“I’ve never needed to. Now let me up, you horse’s ar-” 

Geralt cut Jaskier off by pressing his lips to the bard’s. Jaskier hummed in surprise, his still pinned hands curling into fists. The kiss lasted what felt like a couple of minutes. When they broke apart, leaned up and rejoined their lip, biting down lightly on Geralt’s bottom lip.

* * *

Jaskier awoke before Geralt the next morning and set on making them some sort of breakfast. He couldn’t help but look at Geralt from time to time as the Witcher slept. All the worry left his face, he didn’t look troubled by all the things going on around him and in his mind. 

When Geralt woke up, it was almost mid-morning. The first thing to hold recognition in his mind was that Jaskier wasn’t with him. He calmed down when he heard quiet singing and a lute being plucked from where Roach was tethered to a tree. 

“You didn’t wake me up.” Geralt lazily rubbed the sleep from his eyes. 

“You needed sleep.” Jaskier shrugged. He stood from where he sat with Roach and filled a bowl with food that was sitting in the smouldering firewood. He held the bowl out to Geralt after putting a spoon in it. 

“I want to spar with you.” Geralt took the bowl.

“Why?”

“Because now I  _ know _ you can fight. I can spar with you and not be caught off guard.” Geralt took a bite. “We need to find you a sword.” 

Jaskier basically groaned. “I don’t need--nor want--a sword. My sand trick has yet to fail me.” 

“When it does-”

“If.”

“ _ When _ it does, you’re going to need a backup.” 

Jaskier knew, deep down, that Geralt was right. “I propose a deal.” Jaskier beamed instead. 

Geralt resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Go on.” 

“I’ll accept your sparring challenge-” Jaskier help up his forefinger, “-on the condition that we  _ don’t _ find me a sword if I win.” 

Geralt put down his bowl and drew his steel sword as he stood. 

“Now? You didn’t-”

“I’ll finish after. Arm yourself.” 

Jaskier sighed but picked up the silversword nonetheless. “Let’s get this over with, then.” He took a defensive stand, his left hand in a fist. 

Geralt, taking offence, didn’t hold back as he had the previous night. Without Geralt holding back, Jaskier was just barely on par. It was the Witcher's strength that brought the bard’s downfall. Within a few minutes, Geralt had Jaskier backed against a tree. 

Jaskier cried out shortly when Geralt twisted their entangled blades, wrenching the grip from Jaskier’s hand. The silver sword fell to the ground with a  _ thunk _ , and Geralt’s own blade was now inches from Jaskier’s throat. 

Both men were breathing heavily as they looked into each other’s eyes.

“You’re better than some, I’ll say that.” Geralt cocked his head. “But we’re finding you a-” Geralt let out a yell at the sudden stinging in his eyes. He dropped his sword and rubbed his eyes. “What the fuck?”

“And you said my dirt wouldn’t always protect me,” Jaskier scoffed.


End file.
